


Bridge

by fastestmanalive



Series: Unfinished Business one-shots [11]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fastestmanalive/pseuds/fastestmanalive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt by magneta (anonymous user):<br/><i>Barry is having a bad day and needs to clear his mind.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> (@magneta: I hope you're feeling better!! Take care <3)  
> The rating has gone up for this because there's implied self-harm (NOT Barry chill guys). I originally wanted to make this more light-hearted but it kind of turned out like this and this is too important to me to just toss aside. So if you think you could be triggered by it please proceed with care/don't read it.

Barry was usually a pretty optimistic guy; he had to be, if he didn't want to crumble under the pressure and stress he was under. But sometimes even he didn't feel like pretending everything was fine. Sometimes he was sick of being around people who would immediately pester him with annoying questions if he dropped his smile.

Today was one of those days. Captain Singh had yelled at him for being late – and Barry honestly couldn't understand why he was _still_ constantly late – and had given him a desk full of work; Joe and Eddie weren't talking to him because he'd had an argument with Iris the day before; and when he was out trying to stop a meta-human (“No more nicknames, Cisco, I swear I'll sucker-punch you.”), he was almost too late for saving a little boy from certain death. He dived in and swooped the boy up in his arms in the last second and brought him to his parents, who were out of their mind with worry.

On top of that, he hadn't seen or properly spoken to Oliver in a week; they weren't co-dependent – quite the opposite – but it would've been nice to vent to his boyfriend. They didn't get to see each other nearly as often as Barry would've liked.

He needed to get away for a while, just to be alone with his thoughts. So he quickly exchanged his Flash suit for his street clothes and left S.T.A.R. Labs without a word. He turned off his phone; he didn't need his friends calling and texting him the entire time.

Barry picked a spot on the outskirts of the city; it was a now-abandoned road that led to a small lake where he used to vacation with his parents when he was a kid. There was a bridge over the river connected the B-road to the smaller one that led to the lake.

He stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning his arms on the railing. He closed his eyes; a light breeze swept through his hair and he took a deep breath, sucking the fresh air into his lungs. It was quiet here, much quieter than in the city; the only sound he could hear was the rushing of the river beneath him. He tried to forget about everything back in Central City, and instead focus on the moment, the sounds, the smells.

Suddenly he heard someone behind him swear quietly. When he turned around, he saw a young girl, not older than 16 or 17, leaning over the railing on the other side of the bridge. Was she trying to-

“Hey!” Barry called and ran over to her. She turned, startled, and wiped over her red-rimmed eyes; she'd obviously been crying.

“Are you a mugger?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Because I don't have anything with me. Seriously, you can check.”

Barry smiled nervously. “Hah. Uh, no. I'm- I just noticed you here and...”

“Wasn't trying to jump,” she muttered almost inaudibly, but Barry still caught it.

“That's- That's great.” It was definitely a good thing. Barry guessed she was here for the same reason as him – to get away from everyone for a while and just think and reflect. “I'm Barry,” he added, holding out his hand for her to shake.

She looked at it suspiciously before shrugging and grabbing it. “Mary.”

Barry smiled at her and she returned it hesitantly; she dropped his hand immediately, as if she didn't like to be touched. They both leaned against the railing again, looking out over the river. He noticed that she was rubbing her forearms, an absent-minded look on her face; it wasn't particularly cold today, so he couldn't understand what she was doing.

“Are you cold?” He was already taking off his jacket and handing it to her. She looked confused. “Because you're-” He made a gesture to where she was still rubbing her hand up and down her forearm.

“Oh.” Mary blushed and stopped her hand's movements. “No, that's- It itches. The scars. And... yeah.” She looked away, clearly embarrassed. Barry finally caught on.

“Oh... Are you o- Do you want to talk? About anything?” He suddenly felt awkward and out of his comfort zone; he didn't know the girl, but if she needed help he'd try his best.

“I'm alright. Just... stuff. Tried to make everything hurt less. Didn't really work out that well. Now it's all healing and it... itches.” Barry nodded along; he didn't want to interrupt her, it seemed even more disrespectful than usual. “I'm okay. Going to therapy and everything. But sometimes... Sometimes I just need to be alone.”

“I can leave if you want,” Barry whispered.

Mary shook her head, then laughed quietly. “ _Why_ am I telling you this? I don't know you.”

“Talking to a stranger is sometimes easier than talking to a friend.” He was sure he'd read that somewhere.

She shrugged again. “I guess.”

Barry didn't want to seem intrusive and ask more questions, but to his surprise Mary kept talking. He got incredibly sad when she told her story – bullies, mean teachers, friends that just didn't care, parents who put her under pressure when her grades were slipping. Barry was always amazed how seemingly easy some people bounced back; Mary really did seem okay, maybe not completely content and happy with her life but definitely on the way there.

After a while she excused herself; she had therapy now, and if she was late someone would probably call an amber alert. Barry moved in for a hug – if there was one person who deserved all the hugs in the world, it was her – but she quickly took a step back, raising her hand and smiling at him apologetically. He nodded and returned the smile.

Barry watched her walk away, hands stuffed into her pockets, and suddenly felt a rush of relief – he realised how lucky he was to have so many people who cared about him, and about what happened to him. He knew he'd always have someone he could trust and talk to about anything that was on his mind.

The urge to hear the voice of someone he loved, he fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his list of contacts. He tapped on a number and held the device to his ear.

“Hey you.”

Barry grinned. “Hey honey.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Oliver whined into the phone. Barry could picture his face right now: cheeks tinted with pink, the corners of his mouth turned up in an almost-smile, eyes glinting. He grinned.

“Sorry, sugar, won't happen again.” Oliver groaned, and Barry couldn't hold back a laugh.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been feeling very confident about my writing recently, sorry this is so late and a bit sad and not very good.


End file.
